


Link's New Shirt

by Finnspiration



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: College, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23396602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finnspiration/pseuds/Finnspiration
Summary: "You can't wear some dude's cum shirt, Link!"
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Kudos: 35





	Link's New Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story before their ex-Christian coming out. I ran across it recently and decided to post it. 
> 
> Please don't make them read this or anything I write on their show, ever. Thank you.

**Link's New Shirt**

_by Finnspiration_

Rhett looked up from his textbook and notes when Link walked in the room. He did that a lot. He could also sometimes read Link's mind just a little bit. Not that it was hard, as expressive as his unfairly handsome face was. He looked pleased with himself now. He was also wearing a rather worn and old-looking shirt, but one which Rhett had never seen him in before.

He sat up, alert. The pattern wasn't great—more like something you'd sit on in a bus or walk on at a bowling alley than wear as a shirt—but Link had always liked colorful, fun shirts, so it was no surprise he'd go for a bold statement. It was also unlikely that he'd have had this shirt and not worn it before around Rhett. Sure, maybe they were a little too up in each other's business—a lot closer than many buddies, even than many best friends, the way they could finish each other's sentences—and maybe he did know Link better than the back of his own hand, but even if he hadn't, this shirt would've stood out, and how proud of himself he looked for wearing it.

Rhett's chest did a weird little thing it did sometimes, where it constricted for no reason. He sat up. "You been shopping without me?" he asked, trying to sound casual and not surprised or a little hurt. Even if it was just to the used clothing store—a good place to check for clothes when you were a broke college student—Link wouldn't go without him. He'd want Rhett's opinion. They always had more fun doing boring chores like shopping, if they could do them together.

Besides, if he'd been there, Link definitely wouldn't have come home with that shirt. It didn't fit great, it was a little too worn, and Rhett would have told him that. He wouldn't go so far as to say that he had veto power over Link's purchases, but Link respected his opinion. He wanted to know, or he wouldn't ask—and this time, he hadn't. Was he getting advice somewhere else? Possibly advice he valued more?

Rhett searched his mind for if there was a girl Link knew who would steer him towards a shirt like this—and that he'd be dumb enough to listen to. It wasn't even good enough to be grunge. It was just janky.

"No. I found this, remember?" He turned towards Rhett, proudly displaying the shirt he wore by puffing his chest out a little and moving his arms to let Rhett get a good look. Rhett liked him better without a shirt. But he was more distracting that way.

"Found it? What?" 

Link raised his eyebrows pointedly, looking pleased with himself.

"You mean—that rag in the grass behind the bleachers?"

"It was a perfectly good shirt. I don't know why somewhere threw it there. I washed it up and look, it fits."

Rhett unfolded himself from the bottom bunk and walked over. He tugged on the edge of the shirt. It was very worn, old and faded and bally from being in the wash too many times. But it was still garish. "It doesn't fit that great. Look at that. Does it even have holes in the armpits?" He felt up under Link's arms to demonstrate, and also to tickle him. 

Link's response was predictable, but still a lot of fun. He jerked away, giggling helplessly. "Stop! It doesn't!"

He was so responsive to touch, and Rhett loved it. Link smiled up at him with that open, friendly look of his and adjusted his shirt self-consciously. "It's got some wear left in it. And a free shirt." He shrugged.

"Dude, you know somebody probably jacked off in that thing and that's why they tossed it?" said Rhett. 

He watched Link's expression change as this occurred to him for the first time. 

"Was it a little crunchy?" Rhett grinned. He knew he had the upper hand now. He could win this thing, and he would. If it took a minute, a day, a week, he'd pound home the point, and get that shirt off Link. No way should his buddy be going around in some other dude's shirt.

"I washed it good," said Link, sounding a little uncertain. "But with all my other clothes. I wasn't going to do a load just for one shirt. I used hot water and an extra rinse. That should get anything clean. It's not like there's stains." He drew out the bottom of his shirt and aimed his chin towards his chest as he looked at it, studying it uneasily.

"How would you know, with that pattern?" Rhett gave him a pat on the arm and sat down, content he was winning. 

It shouldn't matter to him, maybe, and it wasn't that he had to have full control of what Link wore or did, but he thought he ought to have some say. After all, it affected Rhett, too. They spent so much time together. It wasn't fair for Link to make big decisions without him—or make small but gross decisions and expect not to get mocked mercilessly for them.

He continued. "You're proudly wearing some dude's cum shirt. And it's so  _ distinctive _ , Link. It really stands out in the crowd. Bet you we'll be able to tell whose it was just by the look on his face when he sees you." 

Link's expression grew steadily more horrified. 

Rhett stretched out casually on the bed, making himself look at ease and comfortable. Maybe slightly inviting, in case Link wanted to sit down on the edge of the bed and be closer to him. 

Nothing had to happen. A lot of times, it didn't. But when the door was shut and it was late and they were tired or stressed or bored and dateless, things happened. It had been like that for a while between them. 

Maybe it wasn't really okay, and they felt bad about it, but it was better than knocking up a girl, right? It was just a thing between bros. Two buddies, and some relief.

Maybe it wasn't very Christian of them, but it was also something Rhett didn't want to give up. He was impulsive, and he had needs, and Link was his before he was anybody else's. Link was everything, as horrifying and scary as that sometimes was. 

Rhett would get that shirt off him, and put a hand at his waist, and sort of tip him down and start kissing him, and maybe play with his hair a little. That was one area he had way more patience than Link. 

Link got squirmy and breathless long before he did, and Rhett liked to make it last, the first part, before they got their pants open and it was over far too quick, and the guilt set in, and they avoided each other's eyes for a while. 

He liked to touch Link, and he'd do it gentle if he could. He'd also wrestle with him or lay on top of him when they were fighting just to end the argument, or walk close enough to him to brush against him in their crowded dorm room, or even in the hall. 

They didn't have personal space, not really. 

Link was his, and he needed access. Right now. 

Link should come over and sit down with him and pull that shirt off and turn into his arms, with that slightly helpless, lost look he got sometimes, like he wanted something he knew he shouldn't have, like he was begging Rhett to help—either to make it okay to have it, or to say  _ no _ when he couldn't make himself say it.

But Rhett didn't say no to Link. 

He touched him, and kissed him, and made up lies about why it was okay and didn't matter. He willed it in his mind, the way he sometimes did. If you wanted something enough, sometimes you could make it happen. And sometimes you could make it happen because you were good at dropping hints.

Link could be very biddable if you got him in the right mood. He gave in quickly a lot of the time, eager to please, hungry for affection. He'd always been a sensitive boy, and that wasn't changing much now that he was a man. 

He was so good-looking it hurt. Rhett was jealous of his ability to grow facial hair, and how well-proportioned he was. He lost sleep over Link's wide shoulders and slim, muscled frame, his narrow waist, his long legs and the way he was shaped under his underwear. 

Everything about him pushed Rhett's buttons. It was in a different way than girls ever could, for all their charms, and not one he could talk about with anyone. 

"Link," said Rhett, to get his attention, hoping that would be enough, that he'd come to Rhett's side and move in to him. 

Was Rhett going to have to take him by the shoulders and pull him bodily over to get the idea across? Usually he barely had to twitch a finger to get Link to do what he wanted.

Link looked at him with dismayed eyes. "You think I need to wash everything again? I can't afford to keep rewashing things. But I don't want some dude's—" He broke off, and ran fingers back through his hair. "You wouldn't throw away a perfectly good shirt because you made a mess with it, would you? It's not that hard to get stains out."

"It's not a perfectly good shirt, Link." Rhett sat up again, frustrated. Couldn't he get with the program and stop obsessing?

It hurt him sometimes, how worried Link was about money, how ready and willing he was to do just about anything to save it. It seemed like he didn't have enough self-respect to believe he deserved better, even though he definitely did. 

There were no lawns for him to mow now. He made money by selling plasma, and held onto as much as he could by being the cheapest guy in the world. He worried a lot about money, and not without reason. His mom couldn't afford to pay for college, much less give him cash, and his dad wasn't contributing at all. 

Link would probably skip meals more than he did if Rhett wasn't there to remind him, and sometimes, to share with him.

Rhett wasn't quick to share food with anybody, but he'd do it for Link. He'd cook for them both and bring him snacks and tease him about going on a diet if he didn't eat often enough. 

It gave him pleasure to look after Link, but it also irritated him and made him sad that Link needed it. He didn't really have anybody else. He'd never go to his parents and admit how much of a strain it was, being this broke. 

What was the point, when they couldn't do anything about it? When nobody could? He'd just cheerfully suck it up. That was part of being a man, too. But it hurt to see Link having to do so much of it.

Rhett sighed, and motioned for Link to come closer, spreading his legs. Link moved up to him, obedient and worried-looking.

"It's not that bad, is it?"

Rhett reached for the bottom of the shirt and pulled up. "Take it off, Link."

Link hesitated, but finished the job Rhett had started. Rhett watched the smooth, pure muscle show itself. He loved watching Link move. He was so perfect-looking. 

Link's head popped out, hair slightly messed up now. He adjusted his glasses, handed the shirt to Rhett, and got on his knees.

It was what Rhett wanted, but not like this, not with him still looking worried and upset. "Hot water kills all that stuff, you don't have to rewash anything." He put his hands on Link's shoulders, just touching him, not steering him. "If you need another shirt, you can have one of mine."

"Really?" Link's expression brightened, like he'd just been offered something great.

Something fluttered in Rhett's chest. 

"Yeah, of course, I've got lots."

Link hopped up. "Can I have any one I want?"

"I get to approve it." Rhett stretched out on his side, the patented Lionel Richie pose, and watched as Link hurried to his drawers and began looking through the t-shirts. "Can I have this one?" He held up a green striped shirt, looking excited and happy as if it was his birthday.

"Does it fit you?" asked Rhett. He was more turned on than he should be already. The thought of Link wearing something of his somehow added to it. That, and the fact that he  _ wasn't _ wearing a shirt, he  _ was _ wearing a smile, and he seemed ready to go along with whatever Rhett wanted, as soon as they cleared this shirt situation up.

"Let's see." Link enthusiastically pulled the shirt on, and turned to Rhett for inspection, his eyes hopeful. "How do I look?"

Rhett swallowed. "Good. You look good. C'mere." He gestured with his fingers. "Sit down with me. Good. C'mon." He pulled Link in closer, so he was leaning into Rhett. Rhett put an arm around him, and reached up to play with his hair a little. "Get your glasses off."

"Oh, you don't want-- I thought you wanted me to—" 

Link never said the actual words. He was too embarrassed for that. But he did whatever Rhett wanted, and if either of them were ever brave enough, he'd probably go further, all the way to The Big Gay Sex Act, which they were both terrified about. 

Butt sex seemed like the point of no return, while literally anything short of that they could deny, even to themselves. It wasn't how their world worked, not when you were small town boys from North Carolina with religious beliefs and a constricted world and families who had some very firm expectations of you. 

But it was there all the same, a lot of things, underneath: Rhett knew he could get Link to do anything he wanted, and he really liked that. Because he was so stuck on Link, and it was good to know it wasn't just him. 

"Nah, this is good," said Rhett, stroking back his hair some more and aiming for them to lie down together. 

"I didn't lock the door," said Link, pulling away and dashing back to it. He paused on his way back, to take off his glasses, and then his new shirt, folding it up carefully on the top of the chest of drawers, adjusting it twice so it was placed just right at the corner. 

Then he walked back to Rhett, slower now, more hesitant, eyes on him a little less certain. Because he couldn't see, or because he was having second thoughts?

"C'mere, come on. Get your shoes off." If Rhett could get him to stop thinking and just start acting, it would be fine.

Link toed off his shoes, and then turned away nervously from Rhett and went to fiddle with the CD player. 

He started up some Lionel Richie. Rhett felt something inside him uncoil. 

"Baby," he said, half pleading, half teasing—his own kind of surrender, to Link's nerves and his anxious, easily-startled, sensitive, and easily-hurt nature. He needed things to be just right, and Rhett knew he could make it just right, if Link would just let him touch him.

Link didn't protest the endearment, which meant he liked it. Maybe he wanted more sweet words, more soft words. Sometimes Rhett couldn't conjure up any, only mean little snide things, half hearted, backhanded words, that made Link's face close up. 

Sometimes Link kissed Rhett to shut him up, and sometimes he left the room with a loud slam of the door and didn't come back till late. And sometimes, his face crumpled like he was going to cry, if he didn't turn away fast enough to hide it.

Rhett didn't know why he couldn't help being a little mean sometimes. He told himself he wanted to toughen Link up, get him used to the scary world they were joining, where they had to be men, and that meant not showing so much, not caring so much—not being soft and eager and giggly and bright-eyed, not if you wanted to be safe.

The world wasn't very safe for men who weren't manly, and they didn't get respect and love and sometimes they didn't even get to survive. It was a scary thought, Link out in the world, without Rhett to protect him and tell him when to knock it off, and there to keep anybody from hurting him. 

But it was stupid to act like he had to be the one to toughen Link up for all of that. He knew it, and he didn't know why he couldn't get his act together better. 

Softly, looking at Link, he began to sing along with the song Link had chosen. Their eyes locked. Link walked back towards him, less hesitant now. His voice joined in the perfect harmony. Then he climbed into bed with Rhett, still singing, and let Rhett begin to touch him. 

He sighed and leaned in, so soft and firm and willing, his hands delicate and careful and skilled, his mouth expressive and kissable.

Their bodies fitted together nicely, even though Rhett was so much taller. It didn't matter, when they were lying down. Right now, nothing much mattered except touching each other, and kissing, and the music that filled Rhett up inside, like a perfect Sunday afternoon by the river. 

He wanted this to last forever. But he knew it wouldn't.


End file.
